


The Next Pose

by tempered_rose



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: I'm inventing shit again, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, lol what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: Mario and Olivier are ambassadors for Hugo Boss and what happens after a photo shoot is only a matter of suggested poses, naturally. At least, that's what Olivier would have Mario think, and Mario is only too happy to go along with it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because I saw [this](http://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Olivier-Giroud-Hugo-Boss-800x800.jpg) and [this](http://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Mario-Gomez-Hugo-Boss-800x800.jpg) and thought 'what the hell' and I could make it work. So I wrote smut. Of these two. Because of reasons. Please read it. I may write more of it if you like it. We'll see!

Mario could appreciate the male form in its various ways, really he could. Especially a well-formed man in a nice suit. Like himself. He wasn’t being vain, he just was admiring the cut of the suit in the mirror for the photo shoot when another person came up next to him to do the same thing.

“Fits nice, non?”

Mario raised an eyebrow and looked over at the Frenchman who spoke. _Speaking of well-dressed fine-looking men…_

Mario inclined his head once and stepped back from the mirror to let Giroud have it to himself. He smoothed non-existent wrinkles from the Boss suit and moved over to wait his turn for the various photographs that needed to be taken.

He found himself glancing back to the mirror, though, and looking over the French international. Due to the mirror’s reflective properties, Giroud caught him out more than once. Mario, instead of looking away like he felt would be polite to do, kept up the eye contact and Giroud raised an eyebrow the first time. Mario averted his eyes partially the first time, but something in him turned back and Giroud’s expression cleared and then went guarded. Mario wasn’t sure if he should have looked away after all, but before he could overthink it, it was his turn for photographs and pretty posturing for the ladies taking the photos.

Mario was used to these types of things by now, but he still felt a little self-conscious sometimes when his photo was being taken. By the time he finished, he’d worked up a little bit of a sweat because of the hot lights in his face for almost an hour. He loosened the top button of the suit’s shirt and half-removed the tie from around his neck as he walked off the set and passed Giroud on the way by.

The Frenchman seemed to brush his fingers by Mario’s and made sure to capture his eyes. Sapphire met cereulean and Mario felt his breath catch just a little. Giroud smirked and continued walking as if nothing had happened and Mario’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Right. Okay.

\----

Mario shook off the incident and was quite content to going back to the bar of the Berlin hotel he was staying in. He had a whiskey in hand and was checking his phone when someone invited themselves to sit across from him. Mario was about to polite rebuff them when he caught sight of a stunning pair of blue eyes.

“You left. You did not watch my photographs be taken the way I watched yours.”

Mario’s English is just fine, but he prefers to listen rather than speak it. Regardless, he doesn’t miss the implication of Olivier’s--when did he have a first name basis of this man even in just his thoughts?--words. Still, he makes himself reply and hopes he sounds coherent. It’s been a while since he’s had to actually use his third language.

“I did not know you wanted me to.”

Giroud--he _makes_ himself think _Giroud_ and decidedly not Olivier--gives him a look that suggests Mario’s suddenly gone mentally ill.

“Of course you were to stay and watch me.”

God, he was so _French_. Mario laughed as he brought the whiskey up to his lips and took a sip.

“I posed for you.”

Snorting whiskey really isn’t advised, and neither is choking on it as he stared at the man opposite him.

“You did what?” Mario says, trying very hard not to beat his chest to stop the awkward spluttering coughs that have overtaken him.

“I posed for you.” Olivier spoke with a shrug and remained seated calmly as if Mario’s spasm hadn’t affected him in the least. He was definitely the epitome of cool, collected supermodel. He rested comfortably in the booth, one arm propped against the table and the other under the table, likely resting on his thigh. His expression would have been delightfully detached, had his eyes not been observing everything that Mario had been doing.

Mario refocused on the man’s words and took a breath once his fit had ended. He posed for you. What the hell did that mean? Mario looked at him with a raised eyebrow, utilizing his expressions instead of words. Giroud watched Mario watching himself and his lips slid into a small smirk.

“Would you like to see? We can go upstairs, if you wish.” Olivier--Giroud--prompted and Mario found himself curious. More than curious. But he was also patient and didn’t want to give in so easily. It seemed as if Giroud was playing a game that Mario was unaware of the rules.

“Why?” Mario asked and not even he was sure what he was asking for.

Why was Giroud here giving him the time of day? Didn’t he have other things to do with his time in a foreign city? Did he not have a museum or something intellectual to do in the German capital? Otherwise, could he not simply return to his own hotel room and play a videogame or something until he inevitably would have to leave and return to Paris or London or wherever the hell he was based from these days?

Why did Giroud want to tease him about the poses? Mario had done the same shoot, nothing had been overly sexualized thus no need for seductive poses; unless, of course, Giroud was making up the entire thing which he guessed was possible. He really didn’t know him very well.

Most importantly, of course, was: Why did he want to take Mario upstairs? What was his game? What was he after? What did Mario _want_ him to be after? He didn’t know and he didn’t really like how that made him feel.

Apparently, Giroud seemed to figure out what Mario meant because he was quick enough to answer with a casual shrug and a glance away, as if Mario’s nearing-empty glass was more interesting than the German himself.

“Because I want to, and you seemed interested. We can be beneficial to one another, non?”

Beneficial.

“You have an interesting choice of words.” Mario replied dryly and finished his drink. He wasn’t drunk by any stretch, even though the liquor was doing its best to burn its way down his throat into his belly. “But what the hell. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Surprise crossed Giroud’s face and Mario wondered if he’d actually won by agreeing to go. The Frenchman seemed to recover as Mario paid and stood up. The German led the way out of the bar, not really looking to see if Olivier was behind him or not. Hell, let him have a look, Mario thought while he went towards the elevator.

They lucked out, an elderly couple were coming out as they arrived at the door and so Mario smiled politely as they walked past him. Then he stepped in with Olivier not too far behind. Mario was quick to hit the button to his floor just as Olivier was also quick to hit the ‘close doors’ button. Mario looked over with a raised eyebrow and spared the briefest of glances to make sure the elevator didn’t have a camera in it from the glint in Olivier’s eyes. He was right to do so as soon as he had looked back to the Frenchman, he was being pressed against and Giroud’s lips were smashed against his. Olivier’s hand had gripped his hip and the other had gone for his face. Surprise kept Mario still for just a moment before he growled and pushed back into Olivier’s touch and his kiss.

The trip to the fifth floor wasn’t long enough, but it was for Mario to assure his guest that this wasn’t going to be him dictating things. Quite the contrary. Mario used his bulk to make up for Olivier’s height and used his strength to keep him close, not that that seemed to be an issue. Olivier kissed as if he’d been dying to for weeks, if not longer. Mario didn’t let that thought go very far because it was absurd.

They separated, kiss-swollen lips were licked as they tried to make their way down the hallway to the German’s room without running straight there. Whatever spark had been ignited in the lift was blazing and Mario didn’t want time to snuff it out. He fumbled only a little when it came time to push the keycard into the slot. He heard Olivier’s breathless laugh, knowing there was a smirk on his face without looking over. Mario ignored the sarcastic comment that bubbled in the back of his throat and shoved the door open when the indicator flashed green. He took a step in and was turning as Olivier pushed him further into the room.

Mario gripped him by the hips and pulled him closer as Olivier slid easily into his arms, going back to cupping his face to kiss him again. Mario backed his way through the simply furnished room and stopped beside the bed. He resisted when Olivier tried to push him onto the bed and Mario shook his head, smirk on his lips.

“Why the rush? I thought you were going to pose for me.”

Olivier’s eyes burned with desire and he tilted his head and considered Mario’s face. Then he smiled slowly, dangerously. Mario didn’t let his smirk slide.

“Very well then,” then he said something in French that didn’t sound very polite at all before he slid down to his knees. Oh Christ. Mario lifted his hand to touch Olivier’s head but earned a smack to his skin before he could touch him. “Not the hair.”

Mario would have rolled his eyes, but he understood. It did take a lot of time to look wonderful, he found it odd that he could appreciate that in another man. Instead of touching Olivier’s hair like he wanted to, he instead ran his thumb down Olivier’s face and over his lips instead.

“I like this pose, but I think it is missing something. Don’t you?” Mario asked and thought he did quite well at sounding sexy considering how breathless he felt.

Olivier parted his lips and sucked Mario’s thumb into his mouth and Mario lost all traces of oxygen from his lungs. Olivier’s eyes darkened and a smirk was tempting his lips again and Mario pressed his thumb against Olivier’s lips.

Giroud lifted his hands and ran them up Mario’s thighs and slowly made their way up to the button and zip of said trousers. Mario felt something in his lower belly stir as Olivier undid his trousers and freed him from the confines of his pants. Mario watched as Olivier looked him over in what appeared to be an appreciative manner. Mario watched as if Giroud moved in slow motion when he leaned forward and wrapped his lips lightly around Mario’s cock. 

Mario groaned and wondered how in the world this ended up happening. It definitely wasn’t how he saw this trip to Berlin ending, not in a thousand years. Olivier was too good at this for him to not have practiced on someone else, but Mario didn’t bother himself with that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t experimented with someone else before. Olivier knew when to suck and when to tease and when to glance up and meet Mario’s eyes. It took more of his control than he liked for Mario to not touch Olivier’s hair. He had a compulsion to do it, but trying to respect the other man’s wish, he simply gripped the nightstand with one white-knuckled hand and the other was clenched in a fist by his side.

After a few minutes Mario felt a familiar sensation inside and he pushed at Olivier’s shoulder and shook his head when he slipped from the other man’s mouth with a small ‘pop’.

“New pose.” Mario said breathless and made some weird hand gesture to indicate that he wanted Olivier in a new way.

The Frenchman stood and with Mario leaning against the nightstand, he was taller than he had been a few minutes before. Mario licked his lips and was incredibly turned on by the way Olivier looked flushed and his lips were swollen. Knowing exactly how that had happened only heightened Mario’s lust.

Olivier leaned closer and captured Mario’s lips again. He was only too happy to return the gesture and he felt heady when he tasted himself mixing with the whiskey from earlier and just _Olivier_. When they parted, Olivier smirked and leaned forward to nip his way down Mario’s neck.

“My turn.” 

Mario didn’t get a chance to ask as Olivier had pushed him onto the bed. Mario landed with a bounce and the bed rocked as Olivier began to remove his clothes with little interest or care at where they landed up. Mario approved, trailing his eyes down the lovely torso that he was presented with, before said torso had climbed over him and Olivier’s mouth was reengaged with Mario’s.

Mario gripped Olivier’s shoulders and pulled him closer as the other man trapped him with his knees on either side of Mario’s hips. The German let his fingers slide up the spine of his temporary lover and was rewarded with a light arch into the touch. Mario groaned when Olivier ground his hips against Mario’s. Somewhere between climbing onto the bed and kissing him, Olivier had gotten down to just his skin and the touch of another man’s cock against his own was a long-lost delight.

“Fuck.” Mario breathed before it was swallowed by Giroud’s mouth. Olivier shifted back to undo the buttons on Mario’s shirt as the German began to remove his pants. Neither could move fast enough to have their skin just on one another.

By the time they were both entirely naked, Mario had shifted and pinned Olivier under him this time. He grinned from having the upper hand and took his plunder by kissing Olivier again. Not ready to admit defeat, Giroud pressed his hips up again until the two men were grinding into one another freely and it was doing wonders for Mario’s arousal.

They ground together and pressed kisses into one another’s skin. Mario would thrust forward as Olivier would push back into the movement. Mario had intended to stop and find some lube from somewhere so that he could fuck Olivier properly, but Giroud didn’t want to wait because he kept pulling him closer and kissing him every time that Mario tried to pull away. It was Giroud that reached between them and took both of their cocks in hand and began to jerk them in time with the movement of Mario’s hips.

Mario groaned and tried to balance as much as possible to not crush his partner under his weight. He swore as he felt him start to come undone and somehow his teeth ended up in Olivier’s shoulder to keep from shouting. Giroud groaned at the pain and started to come, gripping at Mario’s hip and stroking them both through orgasm.

Mario came back to his senses and realized that Olivier’s hand was trapped between the both of them in a pool of mutual come. Sheepishly, he shifted off of the Frenchman; Olivier stirred from whatever haze he was in and kissed Mario lightly as he repositioned himself on his side next to Olivier. He ended the kiss and laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“What...what was that?” Mario asked after a few moments of silence.

“I thought it was fun.” Olivier replied quietly and Mario shook his head.

“It was. But why me?”

Olivier raised an eyebrow as he leaned over and took a tissue to wipe off the mess created by the pair of them that was on his abdomen. He threw it haphazardly into the trashcan and then looked at Mario with a raised eyebrow.

“Because I wanted you.”

It was so simple, as if there was nothing more to it than that. Perhaps there wasn’t.

“So it was just a one off...nothing past today then?” Mario asked to clarify.

Olivier shook his head and started to sit up. “Don’t make it something it wasn’t.”

Mario reached out before he could stop himself. Now was the time to let Olivier go and they could be satisfied but pretend this never happened. Now was the way out he could utilize and it wouldn’t need to go further. Olivier was kind to give him such an escape plan, but Mario couldn’t leave it alone.

“I won’t. But you don’t have to go so soon unless you wish to.”

Olivier looked over his shoulder and Mario did find him ridiculously attractive.

“Fine, I will stay then. But I get to pick the next pose, and I will fuck you before I leave.” Olivier smirked as Mario’s eyes narrowed.

“You can try.”

Olivier’s smirk only seemed to grow as he shifted back to straddle Mario’s body. Just before their lips made contact, he leaned over to murmur by his ear.

“No. I will fuck you, and you will enjoy it, my dear.”

The last thing Mario saw before he closed his eyes to lose himself in Olivier’s kiss was that devilish smirk that he was fairly certain would be burned into his memory for a very, very long time.


End file.
